


You are a runner and I am my father's son

by omnia_sol



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: M/M, chuck is grumpy in the morning, he doesn't secretly adore them nope, he just wants to hide in raleigh's lumpy sweaters, now I want to see them cuddle, so lumpy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-22 02:24:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/907766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omnia_sol/pseuds/omnia_sol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the people they could've woken up with, it had to be each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You are a runner and I am my father's son

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Pacific Rim kinkmeme](http://pacificrimkink.livejournal.com); someone asked for a fic inspired by [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Y45HYmX5mw) by Wolf Parade.
> 
>  
> 
> _"I am my father's son / and I'll build a house inside of you / you are a runner with a stolen voice / and I am my father's son / watching you run."_

He blinks awake to the darkness of an unfamiliar room. He’s in bed, naked, and a well-muscled arm is slung around his midsection in a firm, almost protective way.

_Okay_ , Raleigh tells himself. _Wait for it._ It’s been a while since he’s woken up in someone else’s bed, and his mind is still fuzzy from sleep. The details will catch up eventually. His body aches like it always does after a particularly satisfying round of sex, and a part of him just wants to give up and go back to sleep. Time enough to figure out his mystery host in the morning.

He sighs and turns over to get comfortable, but he underestimates how small the bed is and ends up elbowing his bedmate square in the face.

“Ow, Jesus fuck!” comes a bad-tempered snarl.

The Australian accent hits him like a slap in the face.

_Oh crap._

His memory comes flooding back. He remembers Chuck taunting him as they pass each other in the hallway — _don't do it, he's not worth it_ — his lips curled up in a sneer as he says one insult or another — _he's just a brat with a hero complex, you're better than this_ — but Chuck had been begging for a fight. Raleigh doesn't remember who threw the first punch and he definitely doesn't remember who kissed who first, but somehow Chuck's lips has ended up on his, and now they were here.

Herc would definitely kill him if he ever found out he had debauched his son. Not that his son wasn't in need of a thorough debauching, and the kid gave as good as he got.

“Go back to sleep or get out,” Chuck growls, and the comfortable, warm heaviness of his arm disappears from around Raleigh’s midsection.

“Good morning to you too,” Raleigh says dryly, rolling himself into a sitting position. He runs a hand across his face and sighs, because _Jesus_ he can’t deal with this right now. He fumbles blindly for the desk light and switches it on, blinking rapidly against the sudden brightness.

“For fuck’s sake!” Chuck bellows, burying his face into his pillow. “Are you trying to blind me?!”

“You’re a real charmer, you know that?” Raleigh says, slipping into his trousers as he looks down at Chuck. All the hard lines of his body are drawn taut, muscles tense in irritation. Even so, he looks ridiculously young like this — all rumpled hair and morning rage — twisted up in his bed sheets. 

Without warning, Chuck throws himself out of bed with a fierceness that catches Raleigh off guard, and the next thing he knows Chuck is an inch away from his face, glaring daggers at him. He suddenly remembers that Chuck is a Ranger too — one of the best — and is fully capable of going from deep sleep to full functionality in half a second if he has to. 

“Don’t think this changes anything between us, _Ra_ leigh,” the younger man says, a hint of a threat edging his voice. “I’ve got your number. People might treat you like a hero but at the end of the day the only thing you know how to do is run.”

Raleigh takes a moment to work the muscles in his jaw, clenching and unclenching. “Is that how it is?” he says, drawing out his words and staring intently at the younger man.

Chuck lifts his chin, refusing to back down. “That’s right.”

Raleigh scoffs, looking pointedly down at the still-warm bed they had been sharing moments before. “And if I’m a runner, what does that make you?” he challenges.

Chuck flushes, and the mantra that he both clings to and loathes flits across his mind.

_I am my father’s son._

 

He almost hopes Raleigh runs in the end, just so he can be the one to hunt him down.

 

Raleigh leans in close, warm breath ghosting across Chuck’s face. “Same time tonight?” he asks, but it’s not a question — it’s a taunt, a _dare_.

Chuck Hansen’s never been able to resist dares. “Yeah,” he breathes, half-hating that he gives in so easily, that he wants this as much as he does.

Raleigh laughs quietly before slipping out of his room, and Chuck is left staring after him like teenager with a stupid crush.

_I am my father’s son_ , he tells himself firmly.

 

He believes that on some days more than others.


End file.
